


It's Called a Happy Ending

by shetheybrucebanner



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Against Tony, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fairy Tales, Irondad, Like Peter hits a wall, Magic, Monsters, Some Greek myth too, Talking Spider Charlotte is a queen, There's not a ton of violence but there is some fighting, Threats of Violence, Tony is sick of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetheybrucebanner/pseuds/shetheybrucebanner
Summary: Tony is really, really tired of magic. And after all this, he's pretty tired of fairy tales too. Peter really just wants his Thai food.My gift for the IronDad Fic Exchange!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	It's Called a Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bean_reads_fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bean_reads_fanfic/gifts).



> Hi! This is my IronDad Fic Exchange piece! I fulfilled the prompt of Kidnapping (and some Fourth Wall Breaking, though that's minor). 
> 
> Just as a warning, there are some brief threats of violence against Tony, and Peter gets thrown against a wall. Oh, and our villain sometimes eats people. However, all of these are brief and everyone makes it out okay! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, I don't own the MCU or any of the characters in it.

Thing is, Peter knew from the first time he put on the mask that what he was about to do was dangerous. As often as May tells him that he’d forget his own head if it wasn’t attached to his body, and as often as he calls  _ himself  _ dippy, he’s not dumb. Never has been. 

So he’s perfectly aware that this whole superhero gig isn’t exactly safe. He had kept it secret from Ned and Aunt May for a reason-if they had known about the broken bones, the sprains, the concussions, the bruises, they would have put him in one of those hamster balls, like the one that Ned’s sister Zoey has for her own hamster, Marie. Sure, it would have needed to be practically indestructible, considering his super strength, but May Parker is a determined woman. Peter knows that she’ll do anything necessary if it means keeping Peter safe. 

What’s unfortunate is that safety just...can’t go along with this job. Peter’s had close calls, with the Vulture fiasco sticking out in his mind, but he’s been stabbed before, kidnapped, catapulted into the ocean (by a  _ very _ angry lizard monster), and thrown off bridges. Mr. Stark had turned into more of a mother hen with each incident, which Peter both appreciates and finds incredibly frustrating. Of all people,  _ Iron Man  _ should know that the risks are one of those pesky things that are written into the hero contract, just like movie and merchandise franchises. 

Thankfully, Mr. Stark hasn’t smothered him in bubble wrap or created an indestructible hamster ball (yet, at least), instead focusing on adding more features and fail-safes to his suits, even letting Peter help add some of them. May had insisted that Tony actually give Peter an internship after she found out about the whole secret identity thing, as Ned likes to call it, and that internship mainly consisted of lab days, plus the occasional visit to science museums and McDonalds after the corporation had started making Spiderman toys. Peter can’t help but think that internships are supposed to be more the intern doing things for their boss rather than the other way around, because there’s no way that Mr. Stark can try to convince him that letting him work on the literal Iron Man suit is a boring task! 

They’ve added nanotechnology and given F.R.I.D.A.Y. override status, and they’ve been working on using the nanites to give him oxygen if he ever goes under the water again. Peter really, really hopes that doesn’t happen again, but considering his luck and how often trouble seems to find him, he knows it’s better to be prepared. 

That’s the thing though-he can prepare as much as he wants to stop the bad things from happening, but sometimes, things just  _ do.  _ And those are the worst, because even though he and Mr. Stark are learning from experience, figuring out how best to protect a teen superhero, they can’t control it all, and they can’t control what happens after, as much as Peter wishes he could. He wishes that he could just see into the future and know when his life was going to get turned upside down again; what the next subject of his bad dreams would be. 

There’s no machine for that, though. If there had been, it would have told him to skip lab day, to stay at home, or at the very least not go out and get that Thai food. 

  
  


“Rise and shine, kid,” a warm voice said, and Peter could feel his hair getting ruffled. He groaned, turning away and snuggling deeper under the old, worn blanket that had been placed over him. Peter didn’t remember falling asleep, and he didn’t remember grabbing a blanket, but he would be willing to give up his life savings (which totaled $8.46 at the bottom of his backpack) and bet that Mr. Stark had tucked him in. 

“Give a kid a couch and a blanket and suddenly he thinks he’s better than you,” the voice teased, and Peter opened his eyes, looking at Mr. Stark’s smirk. 

“Sorry, I’m stuck,” Peter said casually, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I know for a fact, Pete, that you’re just busting the chops of an old man. C’mon, get up.”

“I’m telling the truth, Mr. Stark, I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, but it was clear that he wasn’t actually annoyed-the corners of his lips were turned up just the smallest bit. 

“Fine then, I guess you don’t want to see the cool stuff I added to your suit, that’s fine,” Mr. Stark sighed. “Can’t dislodge a stuck kid, I guess, huh F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Apparently not, boss,” was her answer, the AI’s Irish lilt making it clear to Peter that if she had arms, she would be holding them up, as if to say ‘What can you do?’

At that, Peter shot up, the old afghan that Mr. Stark had placed on him falling off onto the ground. Dum-E whirred in the background, moving to pick up the blanket as his creator snorted. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., save that recording and play it the next time the kid tries to get out of going to school,” he grinned, taking a sip of his coffee as Peter glared at him. 

“Very funny. Now, what did you add to the suit?” Despite still wanting to sink back into his nap, Peter was curious, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he knew which features had been encoded. Mr. Stark led him to the work table, where all Peter saw was a simple red band. 

“I thought you were working on my suit,” Peter asked, picking the object up carefully and peering at with rapt curiosity. 

“I was. Well, a prototype-your actual suit is still safe and sound, don’t worry. But put it on and twist it to your left. C’mon, don’t give me that look, try it.” Peter could guess at what Mr. Stark was trying to do, but there was no way he had fit the entire suit into what was basically a small bracelet. He hadn’t mastered the nanites that fast, had he?

Still, Peter did what Mr. Stark instructed, slipping the band on and watching it as it adjusted perfectly to fit his thin wrist. He twisted it, and couldn’t help the small shout of surprise he let out when he was suddenly covered in his suit. It adjusted to accommodate for his sneakers and jeans; while it wasn’t as comfortable as his suit normally was (there was a reason he wore it under rather than over his clothes, after all), Peter couldn’t help but be amazed by the technology behind it. 

“That’s fantastic! I didn’t think you were anywhere near getting the nanites to work like this!”

“I’m wounded. A lot happens when you fall asleep, you know. I don’t have to talk about your friend Ted, I can just work,” Mr. Stark teased, making Peter roll his eyes. 

“You know it’s Ned. And anyway, I’m good company, F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells me so.”

“He is, Boss. Mr. Parker makes sure you eat more than a handful of blueberries every two days,” the AI said, her tone dry and unamused. 

“I didn’t program that sass, my girl. You’ve definitely picked it up from somewhere, and it’s not me,” the older man said, pulling up several holo screens to explain the benefits of the new band-suit to Peter. 

“Now, I know most of the time you wear your suit under your clothes, though I can’t imagine that’s fun to navigate when you need to use the bathroom, but that’s on you, kid-”

“Mr. Stark!”

“But if you ever need your suit and you don’t have it on you, all you need to do is twist the band like you did, and you’ll be all set. It’s quiet and discreet, plus it’s a great fashion statement.” 

“I’m not really looking to impress any bad guys with my fashion, but I like the attention to detail, I guess,” Peter said, looking back down at his wrist. “How am I supposed to get it off? The band isn’t there anymore.” 

“Just tap the center like you would with your normal suit, and it’ll shrink back down. Now, it still needs to be improved upon, because I can see your sneakers right now, and trust me, not an ideal look, definitely bad for the fabric too, though it’s a good test of how well it’ll hold up-”

Peter could see Mr. Stark’s eyes light up in the way they always did when he was presented with a problem he wanted to solve, and he knew if he didn’t stop him, they’d go on another engineering binge. Considering that his stomach felt like it was going to eat itself and he hadn’t seen his mentor have anything other than coffee for hours, it was definitely time for dinner. He tapped the suit, smiling at Mr. Stark and pulling out the phone he had been given two weeks into the internship after he had put his flip phone on the work table. 

“Mr. Stark, we need dinner before we test anything out. May has a sixth sense when I don’t eat,” he said, already dialing the number of their favorite Thai place. 

“Maybe Aunt Hottie has her own set of superpowers, who knows? Order me my usual?” Peter groaned at the comment about his aunt, but ordered both of their regulars, though he had about six times the amount of food that Mr. Stark asked for. Beyond fast metabolism, and all that jazz. 

“That’ll be all, thanks so much! I’ll come to pick up, thanks again,” Peter said, ending the phone call and grabbing his jacket. Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. 

“You know I’m literally a billionaire, several times over, right? I can foot the delivery charge.” 

“I want to walk. Gives you time to shower, freshen up a little,” he said, calling out over his shoulder as he left the workshop. 

“Rude! Be nicer when you pick up and leave a good tip!” Mr. Stark yelled after him, sputtering slightly with indignation. Peter just laughed quietly to himself, taking the elevator down and leaving the building. 

Neither he or Mr. Stark noticed that he left with the band still on his wrist.

  
  


Peter first noticed it near the entrance to the subway. He had been kidding when he said he wanted to give Mr. Stark the chance to shower, but it was nice to get out of the lab for a bit. Sure, he loved being in there, and he had the tendency to get lost in his work just like Mr. Stark, but he knew well enough that a break every once in a while helped him from getting stuck and frustrated. 

Normally, he would have just swung there, but with his suit under Mr. Stark’s ever-capable hands, it meant taking the long route. The subway could be either a hit or miss. Peter did enjoy people-watching, looking at the citizens he tried his hardest to protect, but when it was rush hour, the jam-packed train could set off all of his senses. 

So when he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise ever so slightly, he ignored it. Peter knew that he’s not technically supposed to do that, but his spider-sense pick up on whenever Flash is about to throw a piece of paper at his head, so it can be kind of annoying to deal with it all the time. It’s probably just a warning for the subway being particularly full tonight, so he just goes down the stairs, subway card in hand.

For all that his mind constantly notices, he doesn’t pick up on the woman staring at him across the road, her eyes locked on him as a ball of white light glows in her left hand. As soon as the top of Peter’s head disappears underground, the woman snaps his fingers, causing all of the street lights to violently spark. As people turn towards the lights, the woman disappears, there one second and gone the next. 

Almost like magic.

As much as Tony knew the kid was right, and that it was high time for a shower and some food, he couldn’t help but start on the suit again as soon as Peter left. He’s examining the circuits of Peter’s main suit, trying to improve on the heating system (winter is coming, and he’s not going to let the kid go cold, after all). 

That’s how he explains to himself why he doesn’t realize Peter has been gone for far, far too long, until F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice alerts him to a visitor at the doors of his workshop. That in itself is surprising, because Peter is one of the few people who doesn’t have to ask to come in. 

“Captain Rogers is asking for permission to enter the lab. He insists it is of utmost importance,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says calmly, and Tony’s mouth almost drops open in surprise. 

It’s not that he and Steve have been ignoring each other, exactly, but after admitting to Tony what Barnes had done to his parents, their relationship had been strained, to say the least. He had kept Ross from locking his friend away, sure, and even let him use BARF, but there was no way he was going to get near that situation with a ten-foot pole. So to have his...teammate, for a lack of a better term, be asking to see him, makes him realize this has to be bad. 

“Let him in, F.R.I.,” Tony says, looking at his watch. It’s been almost forty minutes since Peter left. Tony is no cook, but he’s an expert on takeout, and there’s no way this Thai should be taking that long. Steve walks in with a bit of shock on his face, as if surprised Tony would let him in, but that’s not important right now. Tony may not have the Peter tingle, but he knows when something bad is about to happen. 

Steve is here for a reason, and it’s not for a housecall. 

“Are you going to talk, or just stare at me?” Tony asks, his voice tight. Steve winces, probably thinking that his attitude was aimed at him, but even if he wanted to apologize, what’s more important is figuring out what’s wrong. 

“The city-it’s completely asleep.” This time, Tony can feel himself gaping. 

“Run that by me again, exactly? Because you look pretty upright and spruce at the moment,” Tony says, already pulling up footage from security cams all over the city. He knew without looking that Steve was probably making his trademark ‘I’m disappointed in your inability to not be a jackass’ face, but riling Steve up, as fun as it was, didn’t matter right now. 

“I skipped out on my run this morning, slept in for once like you’re always telling me to. As soon as I walked outside, all I could see was sleeping people,” Steve said quietly. “For a second, I-” 

“Shit,” Tony muttered, looking at the footage that F.R.I.D.A.Y. had pulled. Steve hadn’t been exaggerating about the city being completely asleep: there were people slumped on sidewalks, using their purses and backpacks as pillows, people sleeping on park benches with pretzels and hot dogs loosely in their grasp (sleeping pigeons only a few inches away from them, clearly having tried to grab a bite), people on buses and in cars and-

Shit!

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., shut down every car in the city which currently has some form of STARK tech downloaded!” Steve sucked in a breath as he saw the image that had so deeply upset Tony, a car rolling down a hill with a family inside. 

“Right away, sir,” the AI’s cool voice said, and within seconds the vehicle stopped, and began to seemingly parallel park itself. 

“Those driving lessons paid off, huh my girl?” Tony couldn’t help the wave of nausea that had gathered in his throat. Those people-those  _ kids _ -could have died if he had looked at the camera only a few seconds later. It would have been captured on camera, just like-no, he wasn’t going there right now. He took a sip of the smoothie Dum-E had made earlier, trying to calm down.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., how far outside of the city is this mass nap actually happening?” Despite everything that he was currently feeling towards Steve, Tony couldn’t help but be thankful that he was acting as if this was just another mission. 

“It appears to only be appearing within the city limits. Boss, I have picked up several accidents. Shall I try calling the authorities within the city?” 

“And outside it, too, F.R.I. We don’t know how many people are even going to be able to respond, if any,” Tony said, pushing away from his worktable and calling the suit. “Rogers, see who else is up and ready to go. If there’s no one out there who can take care of these people, we can at least try to bring them into the Medbay.” Steve nodded, taking out his phone to alert the rest of the team when he noticed a familiar red and blue suit on the table. 

“Well, Peter’s here, so we’ll have at least the three of us,” he sighed, not noticing the look on Tony’s face as he sent a quick message to the team. “He might be faster at getting around and spotting survivors than any of us.” He looked up when he heard the sound of smashed glass, seeing the color fade out of Tony’s face, the cup holding his smoothie broken on the ground.

“Shit-shit, shit, this is not-” Steve moved towards Tony, surprised to see that the man actually let him put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tony, what’s wrong?”

“I completely-I mean, I knew when I saw you, I felt it in the pit of my stomach, something was wrong, but I didn’t-Steve, the kid is out there, he could be passed out somewhere, I don’t-” Tony looked frantic, starting to hyperventilate, and Steve knew instantly what the man was trying to say. 

“Peter? He’s out there?” Tony nodded, and Steve felt his stomach twist. “Okay, just breathe Tony. We’re going to find him, alright?” 

“F.R.I.?” Tony’s eyes were closed, frantically thinking of what could have happened to his kid. Maybe whatever was going on wouldn’t affect him because of his powers? He couldn’t decide what was worse, if Peter was perfectly fine and watching the world sleep around him, or if he was stuck in some odd kind of fairytale sleep. Awake and frantic, or sleeping and vulnerable?

“There are no traces of Mr. Parker among the sleeping citizens,” the cool voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. 

“That’s good then, Tony, he’s probably just trying to figure out what the hell is going on,” Steve said, trying to be soothing, but Tony’s eyes were still closed and his face as a pale as a piece of paper. 

“On the contrary, Captain Rogers, there are no traces of Mr. Parker anywhere,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. corrected. “He was last seen taking the subway to pick up the Thai that he and Boss ordered fifty-seven minutes earlier.” 

“Play the footage, F.R.I.,” Tony ordered, opening his eyes to see Peter walking towards the subway stairs, looking perfectly at ease and comfortable. A second later, a burst of bright white light filled the screen, and then the light cleared, showing sleeping bodies on the ground, replacing the hustle and bustle that had been present beforehand. 

Tony looked at Steve, wanting the man to contradict what they both knew had a hand in what was going on, but all he saw was a grim look on his face. 

“Magic,” Steve murmured, and Tony wanted to bash his head against the table. Of course. Why couldn’t anything just be easy?

  
  


When Peter finally woke up, he felt...extraordinarily light and thin. Not like he’s not had enough to eat, or like that time he was sad about the Oppy rover and Mr. Stark had taken him to an anti-gravity training room. It was as if he wasn’t all there, like he was hanging onto something by a thread. 

He sat up and took in his surroundings. He’s been held hostage before as Spiderman-unfortunately a casualty of the job-but he can immediately tell this is different. For one, he’s never been taken as Peter Parker before, which makes this less of a hostage situation and far more a kidnapping. And two, he’s never been held in a room like this before. Usually, criminals will keep him locked up in a dingy basement or an abandoned workhouse, in some empty area a few hours outside of the city. 

The room he’s in has stone walls-like literal stones have been put together to build it-and there are tapestries throughout the room. There’s a bookcase and a table in front of him, where several books are open near piles of rolled-up paper. Several large pieces of what look to be Greek pottery are along shelves on the wall, looking well preserved and cared for. There are candles burning around the room, wax dripping slowly down. It looked almost like a castle. 

Peter looked down at his hands and almost screamed. 

There are two of him. He’s sitting up, but his body is see-through, almost like glass or ice. The only part of him that looks solid is the red band on his wrist, which is shimmering and looks hot to the touch, though he can’t feel anything. 

The other him is laying down, eyes closed and body still. For a second, Peter is sure that he’s dead, but a part of him knows that despite what it looks like, he’s still alive. He can feel it in his bones, transparent as they are at the moment. 

He slid off the stone table that his body is resting on, and sees that he’s in some sort of coffin with a glass lid. There are flowers surrounding his body, and he can’t help but think of Snow White after she had eaten the poison apple. 

“Excuse me, but who are you?” Peter turned his head but saw nothing for a split second, until he notices something small on the floor. Sitting there is a tiny spider, and Peter has a feeling that it’s talking to him. Still, he had to ask. 

“Um-are you talking to me?” His voice sounded wavery and high, like the wind chimes May used to have before he and Ned accidentally destroyed them in an experiment. 

“Of course I am. Who else is there to talk to?” If he could see the spider’s face, Peter would bet they would be rolling their eyes. 

“I’m Peter. And you are?” Despite how odd the situation is, Peter can always rely on his manners to take over. 

“My mother called me-” The spider uttered something that sounded like lightning cracking on a cold day, and Peter was completely unsure of how he would be able to recreate a noise like that. “I prefer Charlotte, however, though my mother finds that a detestable name for her daughter.” That was more doable. 

“Charlotte, do you know where I am?” 

“The Home of the Great Weaver, of course. Don’t you know anything?” 

“Charlotte, the last thing I remember doing was getting Thai food for me and Mr. Stark. Sorry for being a little disoriented at waking up in a magic castle, or whatever this is.” Charlotte seemed to perk up at Mr. Stark’s name, looking at him in interest. (Well, as much as a spider could, anyway.) 

“Mr. Stark, did you say?” Peter nodded, looking at her curiously. 

“Why, do you know him?” This day was getting weirder and weirder. 

“I don’t, but Mother does. I hope you’re not too fond of him, Peter,” she warned, and Peter felt his stomach twist. 

“Why? What’ll she do?” 

“Mother likes to play with her food,” Charlotte quietly said, and Peter felt faintly nauseous. “She likes to make it hurt-”

“Enough, Charlotte! I don’t want to hear it!” Peter’s voice wavered, and he could feel the spider crawl up to his wrist, tentatively. 

“I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean to alarm you,” she said, and Peter sighed. 

“I know. It’s not your fault, Charlotte.” A thought came to him suddenly. “You don’t-well, you don’t-”

“No, I would never! Mother says humankind helps us grow strong, but I would rather stay weak and just eat my flies if it’s all the same,” the little spider said. “I know Mother just wants me to grow healthy, but I just think it’s wrong.”

“If you don’t like it, why not say something to her?” Peter asked, looking at her intently.

“My brother Francis tried once. She ate him,” Charlotte said sadly, and Peter was stunned. What kind of horror show was he stuck in? 

“Charlotte, look. If you help me get out, I’ll take you far away from here, and you can eat all the flies you want, okay?” He doubted May would let him keep a spider, Spiderman or not, but if it got him out he would build Charlotte a mansion. 

“That’s very kind Peter, but I can’t. I can’t wake you up, and even if I could, we’re trapped here by my Mother’s magic. I don’t even know what the world outside of these walls looks like anymore.” Peter frowned at that, getting up and walking to the window. He looked out and was surprised to see that they were in a high tower, a tower so high that all he could see below him were fluffy white clouds. 

“Disappointing, isn’t it,” Charlotte sighed. That was a bit of an understatement. 

“I feel like this shouldn’t be possible,” Peter said, voice faint. “Probably not, right? This is like something out of a fairy tale.” 

“Doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Charlotte responded, crawling onto the windowsill and weaving a beautiful web. 

“Unfortunately I’m seeing that, Char.” The spider looked at him, but Peter didn’t notice. “What did your Mother...well, do to me? I’m not dead, am I?” 

“You’re simply in an enchanted sleep. It’s not permanent, and will end as soon as Mother chooses to let you go.” Peter had to bite back his next question, about whether he’d be let go before or after something horrible happened to Mr. Stark. 

“If I’m asleep, why am I up and around? And see-through?” Charlotte stuck out one small leg towards the band on Peter’s wrist, but avoided touching it. 

“Mother wasn’t able to make  _ all _ of you fall asleep into the Land of Dreams. She tried taking the band off, but it burned her. That’s tethering you, and if you want my advice, I wouldn’t take it off. The Land of Dreams is a terrifying place, according to Mother. You can lose yourself in there.”

“I’m clearly not there. I’m here. Both of me are.”

“You’re...walking between planes, I suppose. The you without a body, anyway.” Peter furrowed his brow, his mind turning over everything she had said. 

“So-a soul, is that what I am?” 

“I suppose, if that’s what you want to call it.” The two of them looked out the window, and Peter couldn’t help but feel his heart sink more and more. He fiddled with the red band, but no suit appeared. How would Mr. Stark find him without the suit giving off a signal? Peter hated to admit it, but the whole thing felt entirely hopeless. He didn’t really feel scared, despite being transparent and in the lair of something that intended to eat Mr. Stark, probably. Maybe that was just the whole, ‘I’m transparent like a ghost and I’m not all there’ feeling talking, but he wasn’t too concerned for himself at the moment. He  _ was  _ worried about Mr. Stark, but his mentor would have to find him first to get eaten, and with no suit signals and some clearly advanced magic, who knew when that would be? 

No, Peter just felt numb, looking at the clouds. How long would it be until he was like Charlotte, having forgotten the world and stuck forever between these four stone walls? 

“Anything, F.R.I.?” Tony is looking frantically over the lines of data that the A.I. has been sending his way, but so far it’s been zilch. Nada. Zero. 

“I’m sorry, Boss,” she says quietly, and he can hear how truly disappointed she is to be giving him this news. They’ve been looking for hours, sweeping the streets in the suit between helping put civilians in safer spaces with the rest of the team. Clint and Natasha are currently searching the streets with the Iron Legion at their sides, but it’s turning up a big fat nothing. Tony lets out a groan and slams his face into the table of their mission room. Across the room, Sam stares, but stays silent. 

“Tony, we’re going to find him. I promise,” Steve starts, but Tony cuts him off without even lifting his head. 

“First off, Rogers, you of all people have no right to promise me anything anymore, and especially not about my kid. Secondly, if it was so easy to find him, why isn’t he here right now? The entire city, except for us and give or take a hundred people, is asleep right now. So tell me, where’s my kid, huh?” Steve steps back, and Tony knows that he’s just trying to help. After everything that happened, he’s surprised that the Avengers are willing to do anything to help him, but they all loved Peter, so he had swallowed his hurt and they had clearly swallowed their anger to find him.

It was kind of impossible not to love Peter. The kid was so incredibly kind, and brave, and smart. He was the kind of hero New York needed-always looking out for the little guy. 

Tony not knowing where the hell he is is its own kind of hell. He can’t even imagine how May is feeling right now. The woman had told him in no uncertain terms that she would find a way to hide his body if he didn’t find Peter, but the threat had been softened by the tears he could hear in her voice. 

May had thankfully not fallen asleep and had declined coming to the tower, instead focusing on her patients and the sleeping citizens who had been hurt from being behind the wheel or crossing the street when this whole thing started. (They still hadn’t figured out why some people were awake and others weren’t-it seemed frankly quite random. Magic yet again was proving to be an infuriating joke.)

Tony can see where Peter gets his selflessness from. He wants so badly to be able to have Peter here safe and sound, to be able to call his aunt and let her know that her kid is alive and well. But there have been nothing but dead ends. 

That’s when Natasha called. Tony doesn’t even wait for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to announce it, he instantly takes the call. 

“We found something. It’s not Peter.” Part of Tony appreciates that Natasha tells him right away that they haven’t found him yet, that they haven’t found his body, sleeping or harmed. But at the same time, if it’s not his kid, why the hell are they calling?

“Share, itsy bitsy,” Tony mutters, but there’s none of his usual friendly teasing. His voice sounds and feels empty. 

“There’s a tower in Central Park,” she says matter of factly, and he has to stop. 

“Excuse me?”

“A tower. You know what those are.” Natasha’s usual sarcasm cheers him up minutely, and he asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to put the call on speaker. 

“What did you find, Nat?” Sam asks, tapping his hands on the table. 

“There’s this big old-timey castle tower in the middle of the park. Like some fairytale crap,” Clint says, and Tony knows Sam must really be down if he’s not going to make a comment about wanting to speak to Natasha. 

“This is getting more and more magical and I am getting more and more sick of this,” Tony spat out, already calling the suit to take him straight to the park. 

Before he goes, he can vaguely hear the rest of the team being told by Steve to head down and follow his tracker, but it doesn’t matter. Magic or not, this is a lead. Something tells him his kid is in that tower. 

Tony Stark is getting his damn kid back. 

  
  


Peter isn’t sure how long he spends waiting in the tower. It could be an hour, it could be a year. His sleeping body doesn’t look any different, and the flowers around him look just as fresh as they did before, so he doesn’t think it could have been too long, but Charlotte herself said that time worked differently up here. 

He spends some time talking to Charlotte, getting to know the little spider and hearing her talk all about her life growing up in the tower, though she admitted to him that other than the countless victims that her mother dragged in, there wasn’t much interesting happening around there. Peter can’t help but worry that soon that’ll be his life. 

Other than talking to his new companion, there isn’t really much for him to do other than think, and he soon finds himself thinking of May and Mr. Stark, Ned and MJ, Happy and hell, even Flash. He’s known ever since he started working as a superhero on the side that his life was suddenly so much more precious and that he was at much greater risk of hurting the ones he loved by getting hurt or dying or in this case, getting locked up in a tower to stay forever as a glass figurine. At least if he died, he could get buried and visited, and his family would know what had happened to him. 

But this? They would never find him in this tower, and if they did, they would assume he was dead. Either he would be forgotten as the world moved on, or he would be technically buried alive. May would be devasted, no matter what, and Mr. Stark would always blame himself for this, even if he wasn’t actually dead!

He was settling himself in for quite the intense existential crisis when he heard something like a tiny motor. It was coming from outside and was traveling upward, and part of Peter started to hope. 

“Look for entrances; if you can’t find any, get Wilson ready to fly up,” a voice said, and Peter wanted to cry out of relief. It was Mr. Stark, and no matter if he was currently transparent he knew his mentor would find a way (even if it meant accepting help from Dr. Strange) to fix this. 

Mr. Stark came up to the window, climbing in as if he did this kind of thing every day. Peter had never been so happy before to see that red and gold armor. Mr. Stark started scanning the room, muttering into his com and frowning at the thing as it started to spark. If magic was involved, and after all this, Peter would bet those life savings of his that it was, then it was probably messing with the signals and preventing him from being able to communicate. 

Peter was about to call out when Mr. Stark turned, and that’s when the part of him that was hoping shatters. Because Mr. Stark turns and sees what looks like his dead body. His mentor stills, going frozen so quickly it would have been comical had it been any other occasion. His face pales, and he staggers to the coffin, his fingertips lightly touching the glass. 

“Pete...kiddo,” he whispers, and Peter is stunned to see tears form in his eyes. He knew Mr. Stark cared, but he hadn’t figured that he would be this upset. After all, the man may be a father figure to him, but he’s just an intern. 

He goes to touch Mr. Stark, but unsurprisingly, his hand passes straight through the man’s shoulder. 

“Mr. Stark, it’s me. Mr. Stark, please, I’m fine, please. Tony…” he says sadly, watching the man crumple into tears. He can hear the tinny sounds of the team through the com, but even if it was working he knows Mr. Stark would be ignoring them. 

He feels something crawl up his shoulder, and he sees Charlotte, an almost pitying look on her face. 

“He can’t hear you, Peter. I’m sorry.”

“You can hear me, why can’t he?” Peter himself feels like he’s on the verge of tears, and his voice is getting tight and anxious just like it always does when he’s upset. 

“He’s not walking in this plane, Peter.” Peter wants to groan, or throw something, or go fight someone who’s harassing a little old lady, but he can’t. He’s stuck here! 

He’s so distracted by the scene in front of him, he almost misses the faint sound of footsteps. Almost. Transparent or not, he must have some of his spider-sense working, because those footsteps are getting closer, and every nerve in his body is screaming at him to run! 

Both he and Tony look up at the same time as a blast of light fills the room. When Peter can open his eyes without his brain going into crisis mode, he opens them to see a tall, shimmering woman in front of his coffin. She’s beautiful, with long dark hair tied together by strands of gold thread and large, clever looking eyes. She’s dressed simply, in dark clothes and a black jacket, and if it weren’t for the gold in her hair or the way her body seems to shift every millisecond and shine into the corners of the room, she’d look like just another New Yorker. 

“Tony Stark,” the woman says, her voice seemingly friendly enough, if not for the ice that emerges when she hits the ‘k’ of his last name. “A pleasure, at last.” 

“Did you do this to Peter? I swear to God you’re going-” Before Mr. Stark has fully even stood up, the woman waves her hand, causing him to stand still where he is. She walks over, trailing a hand over the glass of the coffin and lightly touching Mr. Stark’s face. 

“Don’t touch him!” Peter snarls, and she shoots a look his way that makes it clear that  _ she  _ can certainly hear him, even if Mr. Stark can’t, and that she’ll do no such thing. 

“Stop, Peter,” Charlotte hushes, her voice growing tense. There’s nothing Peter can really do other than listen to her, can he? He can’t even touch solid things, and magic or not, this woman looks pretty solid. 

“Do you know who I am?” She asks, looking at his mentor curiously. Mr. Stark, never one to not be sarcastic, rolls his eyes. 

“You think I would know the name of someone who kills a kid? What’s your problem? What’s this about?” The tears are gone, replaced with a hatred that’s rival to the anger that’s lurking behind the woman’s nonchalant face. 

“Why, you, of course.” Mr. Stark’s eyes narrow, and Peter can tell the man is trying to place this woman, if he’s actually seen her before. 

“I doubt you remember me. You were a stupid, foolish young man, absolutely overwhelmed with ego,” the woman explains, and Peter can’t help but feel that he’s watching a spider pull an immobilized fly into its hands. “I was presenting at a conference, about my woven thread. It was strong enough to become the infrastructure of buildings.” Peter sees some recognition in his mentor’s eyes, but the woman continues. 

“That was my best work yet, work created from centuries of my effort! No one had come as close as I had to make it possible, and you mocked it! You corrected my work in front of hundreds, and I’ve despised you ever since!” 

“Your work had several flaws, I was merely pointing out your problems so I could help an amateur.” The woman let out a shriek, enraged, a shriek so loud that Mr. Stark let out a moan of pain and the glass of his coffin cracked. Peter looked at it nervously. No doubt he was a bargaining chip, but the woman hadn’t mentioned him yet. 

“I have been mocked once, and I will never let it happen again! I put the whole city to sleep to kill you, and I won’t hesitate!” The woman pulled out a dagger and Peter rushed forward, trying to grab her wrist, but she flicked her hand, sending him  _ hard  _ into the stone wall. Transparent or not, it hurt. He can hear Charlotte shout for him, asking if he’s alright, but the breath is knocked out of him. 

“Do it. I don’t care, lady. You killed my-you killed Peter, there’s no point in staying alive anymore,” Mr. Stark challenged, and Peter felt his heart jump into his throat. The woman stopped, dagger still in her hand as she looked at Mr. Stark with cold eyes. 

“You’re not lying. I can see it. You’d be miserable without him,” she says, looking at him with sudden glee. “That’s why I took him, of course, though I never figured it would hurt you this badly.” She was quiet for a moment, everyone in the room holding their breath. 

“I’ll offer you a deal, Mr. Stark.” The man starts to open his mouth, but she covers it with her other hand. “I’m not finished. Peter, you see, is not actually dead,” she confessed, waving a hand towards Peter. 

He can feel himself becoming more visible, can ever so slightly feel the floor and furniture without his hands going through. Mr. Stark lets out a choked noise, and Peter looks up at him sheepishly. 

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” he says quietly, and the man looks like he’s about to have another heart attack. 

“Peter! Kid, how long have you been here? Why didn’t you say anything?” The woman grins, a harsh look on her face. 

“Because I commanded it to be so. The great Minerva knows all!” 

“She’s lying Mr. Stark!” Minerva tightens her fist, and Peter feels something like one of his own webs cover his mouth. The only difference is this feels foul, musty. Peter wants to gag, but he’s afraid of choking. How is he supposed to tell Mr. Stark that the great Minerva isn’t that great, that it’s his  _ mentor’s  _ invention that’s keeping him from being launched into the Land of Dreams? Minerva turns back to Mr. Stark, completely casual. 

“Peter’s soul is wandering right now, but one snap of my fingers and he’ll disappear forever. It is a valuable thing, a young life, don’t you think? Especially a young life who’s only crime is existing within the presence of you,” she says quietly, voice dripping with venom. “I had planned to simply kill you, Stark, after I had my fun, but I’m merciful. I offer you a deal-the child’s life for your own. You will tell me all your secrets, all your ideas, I will take your brain and become even wiser, and the world will forget who you were. And the boy lives. What do you say?” 

Mr. Stark looks at Peter just once. 

His face is resigned, but not scared, despite everything Minerva has told him. Peter knows instantly what Mr. Stark is going to do, what he’s chosen. 

Peter won’t let it happen. 

He gently brushes Charlotte off his shoulder, watching her land on the ground and look up at him with sadness in her eyes. She seems to understand what Peter is going to do, and he wishes he could say goodbye. He wishes he didn’t have to do this. Because unlike Mr. Stark, he is scared. But he’s a hero-this is what he has to do. 

As Mr. Stark turns back to Minerva, nodding ever so slightly, Peter sees his chance. She’s far too distracted at the thought of devouring Mr. Stark, clearly, her teeth growing long and pointed like a monstrous bug. This is his chance.

He slips the red band off, and hopes that despite its small size, the force of his throw will do real damage. He takes a deep breath, and then throws the band hard, just like Captain Rogers does with shield during training. 

In a split second, it makes its impact, hitting Minerva hard enough that he hears something crack. She turns to him, furious, and starts to tighten her fist again, but whatever she’s trying to do doesn’t work. To Peter’s shock, the webbing on his mouth drops away as the woman begins to crack like a piece of glass that had fallen onto the ground. She seems surprised too, staring at her hands as fear begins to show on her face. 

“This is not the end,” she growls, or at least that’s what Peter thinks she says, because her voice has become gritty and fierce, and he can’t completely understand her. Peter sticks out his tongue, and she lunges at him, but before she can even take a full step, she shatters, the pieces of her quickly disintegrating into dust. 

Mr. Stark drops to the ground, Minerva’s disappearance allowing him to move again, and he runs to Peter. 

“Kid, you’re going to kill me one of these days,” he says, voice scared and angry but most of all relieved, and Peter hates that he’s going to ruin that yet again. “How did you know that would work?” 

“Charlotte,” Peter says, and he can feel something odd happening. It’s like his body is being sucked into a vacuum, starting with the tiny cells of his toes. “The spider.” 

“Isn’t that something? Okay, kid, I’m just so happy you’re safe, we need to figure out a way to get you and Sleeping Beauty over there joined back together. Kid?” Peter’s really in pain now. He’s trying to fight it, but he can see himself fading, and he’s so  _ scared  _ and so sad and he’s just so, so sorry. 

“Mr. Stark? I don’t feel so good,” he admits, trying to grab onto the man, but either Minerva’s disappearance made it impossible for him to touch solid things, or this is it. His legs disappear, and all he wants is to be able to hug Mr. Stark before he vanishes. 

“Pete-what the f-” Mr. Stark looks horrified, and Peter feels so guilty. 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to,” he admits, and he’s frantic now as his arms disappear. “I’m sorry.” 

That’s the last thing he says before everything goes black.

  
  


Tony sits for a second in stunned silence, fingers tracing the spot where his kid had been just seconds earlier. Peter is gone. He was still alive, albeit out of his body, because Minerva had kept him there, and when she had disappeared, so had her magic. Which meant-

He staggers up and goes to the coffin, places his hands on the glass and looks at the boy inside. He looks so peaceful, so calm. So dead. He’s not breathing. Tony lets out a pained moan. 

Peter will never grow old, he’ll never hear the kid snore or talk so quickly he runs out of breath or dance when he figures out an equation or bring him some of May’s awful homemade cooking or-or-

He sobs. How can he not? This is his child, and he understands fully now how parents who lose a child can never go on. He’ll never recover from this. 

He has to bring Peter back. There will need to be a funeral, and arrangements will need to be made, and god, someone is going to have to tell May. It’s so overwhelming, part of him wants to just spend the rest of his days in this room and waste away with his son. But he can’t. He needs to be strong. For Peter. 

He opens the coffin, lifting the heavy glass at ease, and stares at Peter. He’s surrounded by flowers, and he brushes some of them away from the kid’s face. He feels like he’s been stabbed, the grief is so overwhelming, and he just-he needs to hug his kid. He steps out of the suit, gently picking up Peter and cradling him close as he sinks to the ground. He rocks him, slowly, humming a lullaby his mother sang to him as a child. 

“I love you, Spiderbaby. I love you so much, Peter. I’m going to miss you, kiddo,” he whispers, tears starting to stream down his face again. This is how I end, he thinks. What’s the point of a world without Peter? 

He stays there silent, rocking his child, not noticing the way brown eyes begin to blink.

  
  


Peter feels warm and safe, almost like when May and Ben had held him as a kid when he had really bad anxiety attacks. His eyes flicker open, and he takes in the stones of the room, the tapestries. Damn. He’s still here. 

But that’s when he realizes he can feel the cotton of a shirt, can feel warmth, and he looks down at his body and it hasn’t vanished, it’s not see-through anymore! He’s back! 

That’s when he places who’s holding him, rocking him, in fact, from the familiar strong scent of oil. 

“M’ssr Stark?” He slurs, and okay, perhaps he’s still trying to piece himself back together. The body holding him stills, and then Peter is dropped onto the floor. 

“Ow,” he groans, and he looks up to see his mentor’s shocked, tear-stained face. 

“Kiddo,” the man breathes, and then he’s being pulled up into the tightest hug of his life. Peter hugs back, enjoying the safety and the comfort his mentor always gives him. 

“You’re okay?” Peter asks, mumbling into the man’s shoulder. Mr. Stark pulls back and barks out a laugh, his throat sounding like it’s thick with tears. 

“You disintegrated, and you’re asking me if I’m okay? Yeah, I’m fine, Spiderbaby. Let’s get you out of here before that witch figures out a way to get back, okay?” Peter nods, and Mr. Stark gets back into the suit. They’re about to leave when he remembers someone important. 

“Charlotte! We can’t leave her behind!” he looks frantically around the room, searching for the little spider, but she’s nowhere to be found. He can’t leave her-she has to see the world. 

“Pete, I’m sure she escaped. C'mon, I don’t want you in here any longer.” Peter frowns, but he can’t find her, and the tower is starting to shake. He nods, climbing onto the back of the Iron Man suit, red band still on his wrist. 

“Hold on tight kid. I’m not planning on losing you again,” Mr. Stark orders, and they fly through the window, Peter holding on for dear life as the tower collapses behind them. 

  
  


So that’s that. A happy ending for everyone, except for Minerva. The citizens of New York woke up to find a crumpled castle tower in Central Park, Peter was fine and got all the Thai food he wanted in Medical, and Tony was hugged by May, after getting screamed at. It’s a fairy tale-of course everything ends well. 

And if a little spider crawled out of the rubble, ready to explore the world? Well, that’s a completely different story. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading <3


End file.
